


'tis the damn season

by captainswit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, Christmas Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Top Bucky Barnes, i listened to evermore and tis the damn season felt like THEM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainswit/pseuds/captainswit
Summary: Steve Rogers is a hotshot, big-deal Hollywood actor. He’s had four indie movies released in the past couple of years, has won awards (even if they have all been People’s Choice awards, the Oscars is next!), and has a blockbuster action movie coming to theaters in a few weeks. He's home for the holidays and he's missed his hometown of Lehigh, and one inhabitant of Lehigh in particular, his former best friend and old flame, Bucky Barnes. 'Tis the season for baked goods, holiday parties, and awkward encounters.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	1. we could call it even

Steve Rogers is a hotshot, big-deal Hollywood actor. He’s had four indie movies released in the past couple of years, has won awards (even if they have all been People’s Choice awards, the Oscars is next!), and has a blockbuster action movie coming to theaters in a few weeks. All of this doesn’t mean he’s too good to answer his mother’s call when he sees her name flash across his phone’s pristine screen.

“Hi Mom, gimme just a sec!” He says into the receiver, ducking under an awning at the nearest storefront on the sidewalk. He’s absolutely not out last-minute holiday shopping for the very mother who’s calling him. “Okay, I’m here.”

“Hello dear, are you busy?” His mom, Sarah, knows he always tries to make sure he’s never too busy for her, but the whole hotshot, big-deal Hollywood actor thing sometimes gets in the way of that.

Steve huffs a laugh as a thought crosses his mind, of how he’d missed a cue on set in the final weeks of filming  _ Hydra Rising _ when he’d felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his costume and pulled it out to answer his mother’s call. Nick Fury, his director, had leveled a very intense look his way and he’d quickly wrapped it up, but didn’t apologize. Nick’s glares were scary, but Sarah Rogers was a school teacher - hers could freeze hell over.

“Never too busy for you momma. What’s up?”

“I’m just calling to make sure your flight is still coming in on Wednesday morning? Your dad had to switch around with Dr. Cho and he’s going to be on-call for the hospital until that evening so he can’t leave town to pick you up.” She sighed as if expecting him to suddenly decide to cancel all holiday plans because he wouldn’t have a chauffeur from the airport. He certainly didn’t get his flair for dramatics from his father.

“That’s fine! I can get a taxi, no worries. I’ve still got my key, just make sure you leave the spare under the mat just in case and I’ll sneak in.”

It was his mom’s turn to laugh, “Won’t be the first time for that, will it?”

Steve feels his face heat and knows his blushing. He thinks of  _ him _ for the first time in a long time. He’s lying to himself - he thinks about  _ him _ anytime he’s half asleep and wishing for a warm body next to him or when he hears another man with a gravelly voice or anytime he has a moment to himself with his own hand in the shower.

_ Gross, don’t think about that while you’re on the phone with your mother, you’re in public, c’mon man. _

His parents had known he was sneaking out, but they never asked with who and for that he was grateful. His mom might be a school teacher, but he was a teenager with straight A’s and had been perfectly well behaved; they’d figured a little bit of healthy rebellion was good for him, which they’d told him over breakfast the next morning after he’d snuck out and back in the first time. He thinks they might have cared a bit more if they knew  _ who _ he had been with but that he’d been allowed to keep to himself.

“No, it won’t be the first time, but now I’m an adult so it’s lost most of the thrill.” He hopes she can’t hear his embarrassment in his voice. If she can she doesn’t comment.

“Oh, I’m sure it has. Okay dear, I’ve got to run, tomorrow’s the last day before winter break and I have to make goodie bags for the kids. A teacher’s work is never done! Love you, Steven.”

He wrinkles his nose at his full name, which she only uses when ending phone calls and in birthday cards. “I’ll text you when my plane is leaving and when I land. Love you, Sarah.” He can picture her sticking her tongue out at him like she always does when he responds to his full name with her own. He sticks his phone back in his pocket and shifts the bags in his hands around now that both are available again. Ducking into the store he’s been in front of this whole time to buy one last gift, his mind goes to  _ him _ and what  _ he _ might be doing for the holidays.

* * *

The four and a half hour flight from LAX to Buffalo International Airport is surprisingly quiet for the time of year. Steve’s also not quite used to first-class travel, but boarding had been simple and the airport hadn’t been overly crowded, which he was thankful for because he’d been running late; he’d passed out watching season one of  _ New Girl _ , not for the first time, and had woken up to the sounds of Nick Miller yelling at Jessica Day for seeing him sans-clothing and not his alarm, an hour later than he was supposed to be up and getting ready. Luckily he was a normally very overly prepared person and all of his bags had been packed, he’d just had to forgo his usual quadruple check through of them and his pre-flight shower.

A stewardess approaches his seat, smiling kindly at him. “Can I get you anything before we get ready to land, Mr. Rogers?” She’s been nice to him the whole flight, but not overly friendly like some flight attendants he’d encountered over his short and quick growth in fame.

He returns her smile, gestures towards the front of the plane, and asks, “No ma’am, I’m alright. About how long before we do land?”

“About half an hour. If you do decide you need something before the captain has us put on our seatbelts for landing, just let me know.”

She walks away, slim hips swaying in a way that would be very attractive if women were anything at all what Steve is interested in. He sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes.

His parents know he’s gay, have known his entire life. They were great and he’d never had to actually come out to them; his crushes on boy band members were treated as normal in his house, because it  _ was _ normal. He’d quickly told Maria Hill, his publicist, and Tony Stark, his agent, about his sexuality when a rumor started that he was dating his co-star from  _ Hydra Rising _ . Peggy Carter was amazing and beautiful and whip-smart and she had a strong jaw and warm brown eyes; characteristics that reminded Steve a little too much of  _ him _ , but he liked her very much and considered her one of his closest friends. Peggy had expertly laughed off all the speculation, having more experience with the media and paparazzi, simultaneously stopping the rumor mill in its tracks and keeping it all just the slightest bit open-ended for his own sake - he wasn’t ready for Hollywood to know him that intimately.

He hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until the pilot over the speakers pulls him out of a nap. “Good early, early morning everyone! We will be landing at Buffalo International Airport soon. Please latch your seatbelts and down your mimosas.” Steve grins, a breath of a laugh escaping his lips at the pilot’s attempt at airline humor.

Excitement at the thought of seeing his family very soon fills his chest and he fully smiles. He loves his job and he loves California but nothing will ever compare to his mom’s home cooking or his dad’s hugs.

* * *

Tony had arranged for a taxi service to be ready to pick him up as soon as the plane arrived and Steve rolls his eyes at the sleek black car waiting for him as he exits the large glass doors of the airport. The man standing next to it is holding a whiteboard that reads  _ ROGERS _ in blocky letters because subtlety isn’t a word in Tony Stark’s vocabulary.

“Mr. Rogers?” The man asks, already reaching for one of Steve’s suitcase. He’s forgone his usual sunglasses and hat on the plane and his face has been plastered on every billboard Marvel Entertainment could buy in the last few months - he’s not surprised the man recognizes him.

“Yes, that’s me. We’ve got an hour-long ride together, what’s your name?”, he asks, handing one bag over the man and lifting the other into the open trunk of the car.

“I’m Luis! Hey man, thanks for asking! Most people don’t ask you know, they just hand over their stuff and sit in the back. You can sit in the front if you want. I’ve got an aux cord and everything!” The man, Luis, prattles off, clearly not used to being asked his name. Steve really hates that; he doesn’t care how much money he makes or who knows his face, he’s not going to treat a taxi driver like he’s not a damn human. Maria says he’s too nice. Steve just thinks she’s drinking a bit too much of the Hollywood kool-aid.

Steve climbs into the front seat of the car, waving Luis off when he goes to open the door for him. He slides the seat back a bit to account for his long legs and settles in for the ride. He listens attentively as Luis tells him his entire life story, all the way from conception to present, asking questions here and there and just enjoying the other man’s company. He’s half inclined to ask him if he’d be willing to move to LA to be his driver all the time; he likes the guy a lot, his enthusiasm refreshing when so many people try to be too cool around him. Steve might be a successful actor, he’d not ever deny it, he’s been very lucky, but he’s still his same old self - the opposite of  _ cool _ .

When Luis turns the car down a familiar street fifty minutes later Steve sits up in his seat a little straighter, his earlier excitement back in full force. It’s 5 o’clock in the morning and he can see his parents’ home, covered in sparkling snow, the porch light left on for him. Luis parks on the street and gets out to help him with his bags again.

“Thanks, man. Do you have a card? That way I can request you next time I’m in town.” He asks, taking the heavier of the two bags from Luis and setting it on the curb.

“Oh yeah, I do! Hey, thank you! I try to be professional but man I love your movies, dude. Thanks for talking to me, it was really cool driving you!” Luis says this all in seconds, at the same speed he’s been talking the entire drive. Steve really likes him and means it when he says he’ll request him next time.

They shake hands and Luis shoos him away from the car, smiling at him. “Take care of yourself! Happy holidays!”

“Happy holidays to you!” Steve calls, but Luis is already driving off, waving in the rearview mirror.

He turns and wheels his suitcases up the clear sidewalk, his dad had obviously shoveled the snow before heading to the hospital the night before. He pulls the key to the house from his pocket, sliding it into the lock and smiling as the door opens and he’s met with the smell of baked goods and his parent’s dog, Captain, jumping onto his chest.

“Hi, buddy, down boy, down! Mom’s sleeping!” He’s breathless and laughing quietly as all seventy pounds of golden fur and wet tongue knock him on his ass.

Christmas is a whole affair in the Rogers’ household. He’s not been home for Christmas the past couple of years because of filming and he’s greatly missed it. The house is fully decked out in red and gold and green and silver and there’s some form of Christmas tree in each room - Steve can’t see yet but he’d bet money there are even tiny trees on the bathroom counters. He finally gets Captain calmed down and walks into the kitchen to see the cabinets swathed in cling wrap covered plates of cookies and rolls and a large chocolate cake. Steve loves Christmas as much as his parents do and he’s grinning from ear to ear - it’s good to be home for the holidays.

* * *

Sarah politely knocks on the door of his childhood bedroom an hour later and he rips it open to pull her into a tight hug. He’s missed the smell of her clean perfume; he hadn’t realized how much. “Well hello, son! How was your flight?” She asks, patting him on the back and squeezing him just as tightly.

He pulls back and looks at her, taking in her face, she looks the same as always, laugh lines next to her green eyes and freckles dotting her nose. “Not bad at all! My driver from the airport was great, I might have made a new friend. What time is dad due home?”

They catch up on life; Steve talking about LA and all the craziness that comes with living in Southern California, Sarah filling him in on all the happenings in their sleepy town of Lehigh. She tells him all about the kids in her classroom this year, a rowdy band of fourth graders who are all troublemakers but she loves them anyway; laughs as she details the antics of his dad helping her put up the lights on the house; she’s filling him in on all the town gossip he’s missed out on when a name catches his ears.

“The Barnes’ are coming to the party on Friday, I’ve missed them so much but with all you kids grown up and off doing your own thing we’ve not been getting together as much. Rebecca just got engaged the other day! Have you spoken to Bucky at all?”

_ Him. _ Bucky Barnes.

The name pierces his heart in a way he thinks would be dramatic if it weren’t true. Hearing it hurts him and he knows it's his own fault; he’s the one who left after all. Bucky had been his best friend since he was a kid, they’d met at school during recess their first day of kindergarten and had been inseparable until Steve had left to chase his dream of being an actor. Coincidentally, Bucky was also the person Steve was always sneaking out to be with during his senior year of highschool. He’d never told his parents and Bucky had never told his; they’d always thought it’d be awkward to explain to them that they were less like the brothers people always described them as and more the handjob-under-the-bleachers kind of thing.

The Barnes’ and Rogers’ had become close over the years of their son's friendship and always attended each other's holiday parties. How could he forget? Just because he and Bucky had stopped speaking didn’t mean their families had.

“No, I haven’t. We’ve not talked in...God, it must be over a year.” He frowns, the usual emptiness feeling his stomach when he thinks about his friend. And Bucky was more than that, not just a friend or a lover, he was more. Steve’s not sure why they stopped talking, it just happened. Bucky had stopped answering his calls and then Steve had stopped responding to his texts and suddenly it’s been three years since they’ve seen each other in person and they’ve not spoken in half that time. “Life is busy for us all I guess. Tell me about Rebecca’s engagement, I know you’re dying to.”

He lets his mom’s voice soothe the ache in his chest as she regales him with the story of Rebecca’s fiance renting out the nearest ice rink for the proposal. He’s not sure he’s ready to see Bucky after all this time but he knows he wants to; he’s missed him so much and he’s not let himself think about it for so long. He’s so glad to be home with his parents and their dog and their cozy house but he knows what really makes this place home for him. A crooked smile and nimble fingers and a laugh that warms his entire soul. Steve knows things will be different now but he can’t help but feel anticipation at seeing Bucky again; Friday’s party can’t come fast enough.


	2. you can call me babe for the weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes to the party, they talk it all out, romance ensues.

Two full days back home and Steve can tell he’s going to have to hit the gym extra hard when he’s back home to work off all of his mom’s cookies and the local craft beer his dad keeps stocked in the fridge and with the holiday party tonight it isn’t going to get any better. It’s worth it though and he feels content to become one with chocolate chips and alcohol, at least until he leaves in a week; he’s got to get back to LA for the press junket for  _ Hydra Rising _ . Shaking thoughts of returning out of his head and focusing on the present, he turns to his dad.

“Did you ever perfect your fried turkey or are we going to have to order heaps of takeout like last time I was home?” Steve asks.

His dad wrinkles his nose at him, blue eyes squeezing up as he laughs. “I did actually! No more accidents since that first time. I’m glad my eyebrows grew back!”

“Thank God too Joe, I can’t imagine having to look at you without them for the rest of my life,” Sarah says, coming around the corner carrying a chair in her arms. “Steve, would you mind bringing the rest of the extra seating up from the basement? I think I’ve got everything else ready for the party. I’m so excited!”

Steve stands and stretches, pecks his mom on the cheek, and jogs down the stairs to the dimly lit basement. He’d watched  _ Home Alone _ too many times as a kid and this room had always freaked him out, even though it was fully finished and there was no creepy machinery. He finds the stack of extra chairs, bought at a yard sale years ago, in the far corner of the room and picks them up. A flash of green catches his eye and he stops, looking down at the sled that’s stood against the wall. A memory comes to him, pulled up out of nowhere:

_ School is closed and they’ve got a snow day and that’s so rare in New York state that it feels like Christmas even though the holiday had passed weeks before. His mom is bundled up on a bench at the top of the big hill, arms crossed and cursing the cold but still insisting on being out here with him and Bucky and Rebecca. The two siblings had shown up at the Rogers’ doorstep begging Steve to come out sledding with them and his mom had agreed but had insisted on coming along to make sure he kept his coat on. _

_ Steve and Bucky are both sixteen but not too old to share a sled, sat snugly together on the green toboggan. Bucky’s in the back and he’s got his arms wrapped around Steve’s middle and they push off and fast as lightning they’re down the hill, tumbling out onto the soft snow and on top of each other.  _

_ Bucky is under Steve and looking up at him with eyes the same clear, crisp blue as the sky and his lips are red and not for the first time Steve feels something that isn’t friendship blooming in his chest. _

“Do you need help, baby?” His mom calls down the stairs, snapping him out of his thoughts. That had been so long ago but still somehow feels like yesterday, in this house, right down the street from where they used to sled in the winter and play ball in the summer.

“No mom, thanks, I got it! What else are these superhero muscles for?” He hears her laugh and grins; it’s a sound he’s missed hearing in person.

He takes the chairs upstairs and helps his mom finish setting up. With the party in a few hours, he’s got butterflies in his stomach and his nerves are shot, and remembering such an intimate moment with his former best friend isn’t helping that. He slips away to shower and calm himself down, hoping his acting prowess will come in handy if he can’t get control of his shaking hands.

* * *

Guests start arriving right on time, hands filled with platters of food and bottles of wine, cheery smiles on all their faces. Steve knows them all. His mom introduces him as if he doesn’t. He shakes hands with his tenth-grade science teacher, Bruce Banner; hugs his former babysitter, May Parker; high-fives the Maximoff twins who are inseparable as always. 

He’s still waiting on the one person who he really wants to see when he hears his mom squeal over the din of the small crowd, “Winnie! Oh, I’m so glad you could make it! Where’s Rebecca, I must see that ring!”

Steve’s next to her in a second and Winifred Barnes’ eyes go big as saucers.

“Well, I do not believe it! Steve Rogers, back home after all this time!” She yanks him into a hug and he goes easily, squeezing her small frame to him.

“Hi Mrs. Barnes,” She tuts at the use of her last name but his mom is  _ right there _ , she’d swat him if she heard him use her first name. “I’ve missed coming home, there’s a lot here that I can’t get in LA.”

“Mhm, I bet.” Winnie’s face has a look of mischief on it like she’s got a secret and before he can analyze what that look could possibly mean, Bucky steps through the front door and all thought leaves Steve’s mind.

Bucky’s hair is longer than when they’d last seen each other, pulled up on top of his head and Steve’s mouth goes dry as he takes him in, red henley and dark jeans and scuffed boots.

Bucky steps up next to his mom and there’s a beat of silence before his arms are around Steve’s neck, pulling him close. They hold each other for a while and Steve wonders if anyone thinks anything of it. He supposes old friends hug like this sometimes; he never wants to let go.

He does eventually break their embrace to step back, hands wrapped around on Bucky’s elbows, taking him in.

“How you been, Buck?”

“Not bad for a 26-year-old washed-up writer who still works at the local library.”

His eyes crinkle at the sides, one of his heart-melting smiles on his lips. Steve’s missed him so much. Has Bucky missed him just as much? They haven’t broken eye contact yet and Steve lifts a brow, hoping they can still have a wordless conversation like the old days.

_ Can we catch up later? _

Bucky’s brow lifts in turn.  _ Name the time and place, pal. _

“James Barnes you are not washed-up!” Winnie smacks her son on the head and the magic of the moment is gone and Steve remembers they’re in a room with at least twenty other people.

Bucky rubs the back of his head. “Says you, Mom. You have to say that. I’m perfectly happy shelving every other author’s book.” This smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Steve feels a pang of guilt that he gets to live all his dreams and he left Bucky here with his own.

Rebecca and George Barnes come into the house and then it’s all squeals again as Sarah looks at Rebecca’s ring and George shakes Steve’s hand and asks about his work. He loses Bucky to Wanda Maximoff, who pulls him over to the living room and out of Steve’s sight - he’ll find him again later, they have a lot to talk about.

* * *

Later ends up being nine o’clock. The party is still in full swing but Steve’s at his limit for human interaction and he’s stepped outside onto his parent’s back porch to sit on the steps. The back door opens and Steve doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s joined him - he’d recognize that cologne anywhere.

“Still not any good with crowds, Stevie?” The nickname rolls of Bucky’s tongue like nothing’s changed even though everything has.

“I’ve gotten better. Still need a breather every once in a while. You suddenly develop an aversion to them?” He asks, scooting over so Bucky can join him on the steps.

Bucky huffs a laugh and settles down right next to Steve, touching him from shoulder to knee. “Nah. But I did notice the only person I cared about seeing had disappeared.”

Steve feels like he’s had the air knocked out of him and he gasps as if he has. Before he realizes it, angry worlds are falling out of his mouth.

“If you care so much, why’d you stop calling?” The words come out bitter and he knows it and as much as he’s missed Bucky, he does want an answer to that question. Why had they stopped talking?

Bucky leans forward, elbows on his knees, and turns his head toward Steve. “Honestly? I got a little jealous of you, going out and living your dream and getting noticed. I was happy someone finally saw you like I did, like I  _ still do _ . But it hurt that you had to be 2,500 miles away and I couldn’t be there with you. I still wanted to be there for you. It’s why I still texted all the time.” He jabs Steve in the side, “ _ You’re _ the one who stopped answering those.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course he wasn’t. But Steve did tend to be a bit dramatic and he’d assume Bucky’s lack of wanting to speak on the phone meant he was just humoring Steve with texts. He told him as much; it earned him another jab in the side.

“We’re both idiots. Not much new there.” Bucky sighs and leans his head against Steve’s shoulder.

It feels like old times and it’s comfortable and makes Steve antsy at the same time. The last time they were together like this, they were  _ together. _

He clears his throat. “You, uh, you dating anyone?”

Bucky looks up at him and grins, the smile sly on his plush lips.

“Nah, I’m not. Nat and I tried it out about six months ago but it didn’t work out. Apparently, I’m still not over the last thing, according to her. We’re still friends though.” It’s been three years since they last saw each other but Steve is still stupidly hopeful that  _ he _ was Bucky’s last ‘thing’. “What about you? I saw something in some rag about you and your costar? You bi now? Because boy, do you have a type!”

Steve shoves his shoulder against Bucky’s and laughs, “No, no, still very much gay. Peggy’s great though, you’d like her.”

They lapse into silence for a for minutes, staring out at the snow. Steve hopes he isn’t imagining Bucky scooting closer to him and he realizes he definitely isn’t because they’re pressed up close to each other again.

“I’ve missed you, Stevie.” Bucky breathes against his cheek and Steve turns his head to find them almost nose to nose.

“I missed you too, Buck.”

They’re so close they’re almost cross-eyed and Steve can’t miss Bucky look quickly down at his lips and back up.

“How long are you home for?” Bucky asks and Steve feels his breath ghost across his face and he has to fight to keep his eyes open.

“I’m here until this coming Friday. I’ve got some press to do for the new movie. I wish I could stay longer.”

“You know Steve, I’m proud of you and I’m happy to see you succeed. But sometimes I really wish you’d never left.” This is a whisper, a confession, almost a kiss against his lips.

“Me too Buck, me too.”

And then it  _ is _ a kiss. Bucky’s lips are on his, soft as he remembers, moving slowly against his own. Steve gasps but doesn’t pull away and they stay like that, kissing softly for a minute before they break apart at the same time, foreheads together.

They’re both gasping for breath as if they’d just ran a marathon and not been kissing in the most PG way possible and Steve can’t help but laugh. Before he knows it his laid back on the porch, the cold wood leeching in through his jacket, laughing his ass off and Bucky is next to him laughing too. It reminds him of being sixteen and sledding and flashes of green.

“I think we probably have some shit we need to work out but what do you say, Stevie? You wanna try pretending like nothing’s changed, just for this week?”

Shit to work out is an understatement. They’d gone from best friends to first kisses to taking each other’s virginity to not speaking for far too long. But Steve can’t find it in himself to say no. He reaches out and takes Bucky’s hand, squeezes it between his fingers.

“Yeah, Buck I do. ‘Tis the season and all that.”

* * *

They stay laying on the porch, hands clasped together for a while longer, not speaking, just staring up at the stars.

Bucky’s the first to break the silence. “Remember when we went out to the lake and went stargazing? Fell asleep in the bed of my truck?”

How could he forget? That had been a particularly  _ interesting _ night of stargazing indeed. He nods his affirmation and Bucky continues, “You wanna do something totally crazy and go do that again? Ditch our families and the whole town that’s inside your house right now?”

Steve turns his head to look at him and Bucky’s eyes are glassy and excited. It doesn’t matter how long they didn’t speak, he’s still himself and Bucky is still the same old Bucky; mischievous and warm and brighter than the sun, he can’t say no to him.

“Hell yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've not written smut in so long and i'm very nervous but the next chapter will have some *finger guns*


	3. the road not taken looks real good now

The drive out to Lehigh Lake is a quiet one. They hum along to the radio and Bucky points out new construction that Steve has missed in his years away. It’s comfortable in a way that Steve hasn’t felt in a long, long time. He’s so used now to busy streets and lights and pollution that the clear, dark night before him is alien, even though this is the wilderness that raised him. The town of Lehigh is nestled against a dense forest that calls forth campers all year round and the children of Lehigh grow up learning every road and path to the lake - it’s a rite of passage in this place. He thinks, not for the first time, that he’ll eventually return here to raise a family.

“I’ve got to make a point to go to my nearest park more often.” Steve comments, waving his fingers at the forest around them. “I spend too much time cooped up inside my apartment and on sound stages.”

“Oh you mean Los Angeles isn’t full of evergreens and open land? How disappointing.” Bucky snarks, throwing a smirk his way.

“It’s not so bad. The food is great. Remember when your mom went through that phase of boiling everything?”   
  
“Man, do I! Your mom’s cooking saved me those few months!”

Both men snicker under their breath, memories of a forlorn Bucky sitting at the Rogers’ dinner table coming to their minds - Winifred didn’t have the cooking skills that Sarah did, and Food Network fads certainly hadn’t helped her case.

Bucky looks contemplative for a moment and then says, “I almost followed you, you know. I mean, you wouldn’t know I guess. But I did. Had a bag packed and everything.”

Steve’s stopped breathing. Of course, he hadn’t known that. He doesn’t tell Bucky how many times he had packed his own bag, planning to hop on a plane - he’d always talked himself out of it.

“I had everything ready to go. Had my credit card number typed into the airline’s website.” Bucky’s fingers are white-knuckled on the steering wheel as if this is taking every bit of his physical strength to talk about. “Mom stopped me. Told me we needed some space, to figure out who we were as individuals. Told me that old cliche: if you love something let it go.”

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll return to you.” Steve breathes, looking anywhere but at the man on the bench seat next to him.

“And here we are, driving out to the lake as if nothing’s changed.” Steve can hear the smile in Bucky’s voice, “Mom knows by the way, about us. Apparently, she always did. We weren’t as sly as we thought.

Steve blushes, thinking of Winifred and the awkward sex talk she had given them both, well after they were both engaging in all of the birds and the bees with each other. “Does that mean…”

“That she knew when she handed us both condoms that we’d be using them together? At the same time? Yeah. We were really not fuckin’ sly, Stevie.”

They break into fits of laughter again and it’s warmer in the cab of Bucky’s beat-up old truck than Steve’s ever felt in California.

* * *

Bucky pulls his truck into a clearing off the side of the road a few minutes later, one that’s familiar - their old secret spot. The lake is visible through the thicket of trees surrounding the small opening in the woods, the sky open above them. It’s the perfect place for stargazing but Steve remembers very little of that from the time they spent here. He  _ does _ remember their first kiss; it happened here. Seventeen and so scared of the future but knowing they had each other. He remembers the first time he saw Bucky without his clothes in a way that wasn’t platonic, skinny dipping in the lake meters away from them. He remembers too, telling Bucky that he was leaving Lehigh, right here in this place. He thinks it’s more than a little poetic that they’re back here tonight; Bucky is a writer after all, always with a sense for the romance of the little things.

“What are you writing nowadays, Buck? Did you ever hear back from that one publisher who was interested in your work?” He asks this as they pull blankets out from under his seat, spreading them out in the bed of the truck; it’s so like before that Steve feels like he’s outside of time, this sacred site has always felt that way.

Bucky pauses, hands on his hips, looking out at the mirror of water in front of them. “I don’t write much anymore actually. Pierce, that publisher, never fulfilled what he’d promised me. I heard he got arrested for felony tax evasion though so that’s something!”

“I’m sorry. I always loved reading what you wrote. I might act the hell out of a story but coming up with them? That was all you.”

“You definitely can act! Fooled the entire high school into thinking you’re straight!” Bucky dodges the fist that Steve aims for his shoulder and they tumble together into the back of the truck, fingers finding sides and elbows finding ribs.

They lay together on the blankets, sides pressed together and legs tangled, actually stargazing for once in their lives. Bucky points out constellations he recognizes, tells Steve he has a lot of free time at the library and he now knows a little about a lot of things.

“Need me to fix your leaking sink? Want to know the capital of Sokovia? Advice on what to do when the former love of your life shows back up in your hometown and you two go stargazing in the place where you both broke each other's hearts three years ago?” Bucky snorts, self-deprecating, “Okay I can’t help with the last one but I’ve got you covered on the others.”

Steve turns his head to look at him, rolls to his side so he’s facing him completely, “Bucky, just because I left...I wasn’t leaving  _ you. _ I know I did leave you, but you never left me. I can’t believe I was so stupid but I never stopped loving you. I was always going to come back home, and not just to Lehigh. I was always going to come back to you. If you’ll have me.”

Bucky’s turned to face him too and they’re so close, the stars overhead don’t matter, nothing else does. He takes Steve’s hands in his, presses his lips to the tips of his fingers.

“Not to be all writer-y about us but I think it wouldn't matter if you were a real superhero and I was some insane rogue assassin. I think no matter what timeline you and I are in? We always find our way back to each other. ‘Til the end of the line.”

Steve feels, not for the first time, all the breath leave his body. He thinks of the poetry book he’d given Bucky for his nineteenth birthday, all of Steve’s favorite lines highlighted in neon yellow. One had stood out so clearly to them both, it’s like it was written for them.

_ Between you and the world _

_ I will always stand, _

_ Teeth bared, hands tied, _

_ Forever you’ll be mine, _

_ ‘Til the end of the line _

His cheek stings with cold and he realizes a tear is rolling down his face. He moves to wipe it away but Bucky beats him to it, fingers stroking down, past his chin and down his neck, feeling his pulse beneath his skin.

Their lips meet for the second time tonight, just as soft as the first. Steve would feel like an idiot, crying while he kisses the same man he’s crying over, but he’s never been ashamed to cry in front of, or even onto, Bucky. They kiss languidly, Bucky’s tongue swiping across Steve’s lower lip, and then it’s not slow or soft anymore.

Bucky rolls on top of him, straddling his legs and covering him with his hair that’s fallen out of its tie. Steve gets his hands in Bucky’s hair, silk strands soft in his fingers, and tugs just enough to hear Bucky gasp into his mouth as he rocks his hips down onto Steve’s. He can feel Bucky’s cock hard against his own through their jeans and suddenly he wants nothing more than the familiar weight of it in his mouth.

Steve sits up and deftly rolls Bucky under him, the truck rocking beneath their weight. He slides his hand under the waistband of Bucky’s jeans and-

“Fuck, Steve! Cold! Cold hands!” Bucky shouts, muscles going taut as Steve rips his hand away from his groin.

“Sorry, sorry sorry!” They stare at each other, breath fogging up between them before grinning at the same time.

“Cock blocked by Jack Frost.”

“That’s probably the title of a Tumblr fanfic somewhere!”

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky’s grin turns softer and he rubs his thumb across Steve’s knee. “I should probably get you home before my mom spills the beans to your mom that we used to fuck in the woods. C’mon.”

Steve chokes at the thought and quickly hops back into the truck, still buzzing from all of their physical contact. Kissing Bucky would always be the same, thrilling and world tilting, whether it was the first time or the last.

* * *

The porch light is on and the driveway is empty, signaling that all the party guests have returned home which Steve is thankful for. He loves Lehigh and the people here but small-town life can be smothering - he’s glad the house will be quiet when he’s back inside.

Bucky puts the shifter into the park position and turns his eyes on him. “Any big plans for Christmas Eve tomorrow? The usual all day and night thing with your parents?”

Steve smiles. It’s not that he thought Bucky would forget about those kinds of things but he’s glad he didn’t anyway.

“Yeah, the usual. Watching all three  _ Santa Claus _ movies, which by the way Tim Allen is a dick, you’d never guess it! And then mom will give me that one present which will undoubtedly be a pair of new pajama pants for me to wear to open the rest of my presents on actual Sunday.”

“Some things really never change. Send me a picture of those pajamas, will you? My number’s the same. Or have you forgotten it?” Steve squints his eyes at Bucky’s snark but the other man just smiles sweetly.

“1-800-PUNK, right?”

“Right, jerk. I’ll see you soon.” Bucky unlocks the truck's doors and shoves Steve out, flipping him the bird as he drives off. Being best friends with the man you fell in love with has its ups and downs.

* * *

“No, mom, I’m not kidding, Tim Allen is the worst! I saw him yell at a poor production assistant who got his coffee order wrong. It wasn’t even wrong! It just wasn’t hot enough!” Steve’s yelling across the living room. Captain is cuddled up to his side, his head resting on his thigh.

His dad has passed out in the armchair next to him and his mom is cleaning up the dishes from their dinner - leftovers from the party the night before.

He thinks of the party and what happened  _ after _ the party and how he can’t believe he waited this long to come back home. If he’d just responded to Bucky’s texts instead of being stubborn, how much time could they have had back?

_ Stop it, dude, you can’t bring back lost time. We can’t go back - just don’t be a dumbass this time.  _ He’s never realized how much his inner voice sounds like Bucky.

Sarah comes into the room carrying three lumpy paper wrapped gifts. She kicks his dad lightly in the shin and drops one of the gifts into his lap. “Wake up, Joe. Time for the super-secret special pre-Christmas unwrapping!”

Joe snorts awake and sits up straight, immediately tearing his own package open - he holds up a pair of pajama pants with snowmen littered across them.

“You really couldn’t wait? Here you go, Steve.” She hands Steve his own and waves him on to open it, sending a stage glare at his father who’s still holding up his pants with manic glee on his face. He’d think they both got way too into this tradition if he didn’t love it.

He peels back the paper to reveal red, white, and blue fabric and laughs softly. His own pjs have the symbol of his character in  _ Hydra Rising _ plastered all over them. “Thanks, mom. I love them.”

“Hey, those are from me too!” His dad points at him and his mom smacks her husband on the back of the head.

“You literally don’t even know what I’ve got on mine, Joseph, let me have this. You’re welcome, baby.” His mom pats his hand. “For the record, mine have wine glasses on them because I’m classy like that.”

* * *

Steve slips into his room, telling his parents goodnight and that he loves them and promises to go to sleep so Santa can come. He doesn’t even roll his eyes too hard. He lays down on his bed and pulls out his phone, snapping a picture of his waist down, showing off his new pajamas. He pulls up his contact list and finds the name he’s looking for and types out a quick message.

< _ You requested pajama photos. This is me delivering on it.> _

Closing his message app he goes to scroll Twitter when a new notification pops up on his screen.

< **Someone’s full of themselves :P** >

Bucky and his stupid emoticons. The emojis are  _ right there _ . It’s an argument as old as iPhones and Steve won’t start it back up, but he will tease him another way.

< _ I can think of something else I’d like to be full of ;)> _

He hits send and feels satisfied at his own stupidity. A few minutes later a new message pops up, this time with an attachment.

< **I can think of something I’d like to put in you actually, when are you free?** >

Steve swallows so much air he gets hiccups. The attachment is of Bucky, reflected in a full-length mirror, naked and dick at full mast in his hand.

Before he even knows what he’s doing he’s hitting the call button and has his hand on his own cock.

“Hiya, Stevie, did you need something?” Bucky purrs in his ear and Steve groans quietly. Bucky had always been a goddamn tease but this was something  _ else. _

“Bucky. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?” He asks, gritting his teeth at how hard his dick is in his hand, from nothing but a picture and Bucky’s voice.

“Golly jee, buddy. You hard up or something?” He hears fabric rustle and knows Bucky’s gotten into bed. The image of him laid out bare on sheets is almost too much and Steve has to squeeze the base of himself to stop this all from being over before it’s started.

“I’ve not had sex in  _ three years _ . And you want to send me a photo like  _ that _ and then act like a priest?”

Steve hears Bucky’s breath catch on the other end of the line and there’s nothing but silence for a moment.

“You didn’t? Not with anyone?”

“Buck, I told you. I left town. I didn’t leave  _ you. _ I never wanted anyone else.”

They sit in more silence for a second and the mood has shifted but Steve’s dick hasn’t gotten the memo, still hard against his stomach as he lays back on his pillows.

“I...didn’t either. Nat and I dated like I told you but it wasn’t serious. Not like that.”

Steve sighs into the phone, some part of him relieved that they’d only ever had each other. He wouldn’t have blamed Bucky if he’d moved on but it doesn’t mean he enjoyed the thought. He hears Bucky snort and asks him what about.

“My, uh, dick doesn’t seem to understand sappy emotion time isn’t the time or place to be insistent on getting some. I’m gonna go take care of this.”

“Wait! I, uh, wouldn’t mind taking care of our mutual problem together, you know.” Steve hopes he sounds somewhat sexy and not as silly as he feels. Bucky was always the smooth one.

“I think I can handle that, Stevie. You got your hand on yourself right now? I’m touching myself wishing it was you. I miss your hands on me.”

Steve groans and wraps his hand around himself again, let’s Bucky do the talking for them both.

“Feel good baby doll? I wish I was there with you. I’d get my fingers inside you, get my mouth on you. Suck you dry. God, I miss your tight little ass. Gonna get my hands on you as soon as I see you next, not let you go ‘til we both can’t walk.” Bucky rambles and Steve feels like he’s going to burn up, going to die, going to melt away.

Bucky keeps talking and Steve keeps pumping his hand, dry skin catching but he doesn’t care, the sound of Bucky’s moans is worth the discomfort.

“You gonna come? You were always so pretty when you finish, bet you still look the same, mouth all round and wet, eyes half-open. You always looked like you should be illegal. I can hear you breathing, baby, getting faster. You gonna come? Come for me, Stevie.”

And he does, all up his own chest, which is heaving from the exertion. He hears Bucky’s groan and knows he probably looks the same, covered in his own bodily fluid and breathing rapidly.

He lays there for a minute, feeling gross but content.

“God, I missed you, Steve. And not just because you sound like that when you come, which by the way? Best sound I’ve ever heard.”

Steve laughs and nods, even though Bucky can’t see him. “I missed you too, Buck.” He looks over at the alarm clock on the nightstand: 12:06 a.m. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too. I’m gonna go shower and hope that phone sex on Jesus’ birthday won’t deny me heaven.”

Steve doesn’t say it but he thinks heaven is anywhere Bucky Barnes calls home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not a poet please don't roast me too hard. i believe the next chapter will be the last and i might also include an epilogue as well! i'd like to have this finished by christmas but if not i'll have it finished before new years. happy holidays!!

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hi this is my first real fic in AGES; i was heavily inspired by taylor swift's new song 'tis the damn season and just had to sit down and get this out. let me know what you think!


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